


An Unlikely Chef

by Konfessor2U



Series: Advent Calendar for Facebook prompts from Sherlockian Lovers page [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Advent Calendar, Day 6, Dinner, Facebook prompts, Fluff, John is Suspicious, M/M, Sherlock Wants Something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konfessor2U/pseuds/Konfessor2U
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In place of all of Sherlock's usual experimental equipment were two maroon place mats set with plates and cutlery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unlikely Chef

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Nieprawdopodobny kucharz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2729021) by [KittensAndRage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittensAndRage/pseuds/KittensAndRage)



The kitchen table was clear. John's eyebrows immediately shot up in curiosity of the simple fact; the table was clean. No body parts, no growing cultures, no dirty glass slides or microscope. In place of all of Sherlock's usual experimental equipment were two maroon place mats set with plates and cutlery. His wide shocked eyes simply narrowed at the sudden change, suspicious that Sherlock was planning something tricky.

John tried to recall the last time he had seen the kitchen table serving its original purpose, but ever since he moved in eight months ago, the surface was constantly littered with papers, slime, grime and other unmentionable substances. To say that he was shocked was an understatement and he stood blinking slowly, taking in the simmering pot on the stove, the used cutting board on the counter top and the strong scent of spices assaulting his nose. He looked around but he was alone in the room.

John pulled his coat off and draped it over the back of his armchair in the living room. When he turned back to the kitchen, Sherlock was there at the stove, stirring the pot of what he could only deduce was chile con carne by the smell of it.

"I didn't know you could cook." John stated with interest, perusing the fridge to find a beer which he opened and took a long sip of.

"It's just chemistry, John," Sherlock retorted sounding a little bit hurt.

John rolled his eyes at the tone of rebuttal and turned to lean against the counter next to the stove, watching his flat mate cook with sincere concentration. The sleeves of Sherlock's signature dark purple shirt were rolled up baring smooth white skin. The shirt and his normal black trousers were accompanied by the most ridiculous apron John had ever seen. On the front of the apron was a cartoon body of an extremely well-muscled man and Sherlock's head was supposed to look like the cartoon man's head. John nearly choked on his beer at the sight of Sherlock wearing something so comical and he was giggling to himself, unable to look away.

John could see the corner of his friend's mouth curl up slightly but his concentration did not break as he reread the last step in the recipe before adding the final tablespoon of spices and stirred as the cookbook said to.

"Sherlock, what's all this about then?" John wasn't going to complain about a home cooked meal even if he knew he wouldn't be comfortable eating it until he saw Sherlock take a bite. Being subject to another of the detective's experiments without knowing was not on his timetable for the night. It was just odd. He had never come home to Sherlock cooking. The man barely ate, let alone made food. And he's certainly never seen the table cleared and set for dinner.

When John received nothing but silence as an answer, he prodded again, "Sherlock?"

At this the tall man looked down at him and stopped stirring the pot. "Can I not cook you a nice meal for when you get home from a long day at work?" Sherlock's tone was light and innocent but John saw a certain gleam in his eye that simply screamed, "I'm up to something".

"No! You wouldn't do this unless you wanted something from me." John just came out and said it. He knew Sherlock and this is not something he would normally do. "What is it?"

"It's done, have a seat John and pass me your plate." John sighed heavily and obeyed. What else could he do? Sherlock heaped his plate with rice and covered it with the chili before setting it in front of him. He also scooped himself food, but considerably less and sat down, still wearing the sexy muscle apron.

John gave him a brief, tight lipped smile, waiting for Sherlock to eat first. He didn't want to be poisoned or anaesthetised for the sake of science. They ate in silence and John found that he quite liked Sherlock's cooking. He was thinking of ways he could bribe him to cook more, when he felt the overwhelming feeling of being watched like a hawk.

"What?" asked John, who tossed his fork onto his plate. He couldn't eat while being studied.

"Nothing." The sparkle of mischief was still there in Sherlock's eyes and it completely invalidated the one word answer.

"Sherlock, this is clearly not 'nothing'! What are you up to? If you wanted something, you could always just ask." He crossed his arms defiantly. He had heard Inspector Lestrade call Sherlock a child many times and John was starting to believe he was right.

"Asking you where my emergency cigarettes were has never worked before. I needed to change my tactics."

John thought that he probably resembled a fish the way his lips pursed like he was going to say something and then fell apart again. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to yell at Sherlock. He sort of felt the need to punch him but at the same time he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. John wanted to be mad at his flat mate for trying to manipulate him, but he is Sherlock Holmes; John has been manipulated by him ever since the first moment they saw each other in the lab at St. Barts's.

"You're a prat." John picked up his fork and resumed eating, grinning to himself.

Sherlock smiled down into his plate, pushing his food around to make it look like he ate more.  _Child indeed,_  thought John.

After they finished, John helped to clean up the kitchen and pack the leftovers in the fridge. Squeezing more washing up liquid onto the scrub brush, he glanced over at Sherlock wiping down the counter.

"You know," John paused until he was sure that Sherlock looked up from his chore. "There are other things you can do to get me to tell you where  _they_  are hidden."

The detective raised an eyebrow and his lips parted slightly in surprise before morphing into a mischievous grin.


End file.
